Dancing Upon the Winds
by Ster J
Summary: Oh no! Spock discovers that he bears Sybok's katra! What now?


DANCING UPON THE WINDS by Ster J  
  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did. It may own ME, however.  
  
Characters: Spock, Kirk, McCoy, Sarek  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Angst  
  
Setting: Post-Star Trek Five  
  
A/N: The concept of a vrekatra is-I THINK-from "Spock's World."  
  
Dedication: To all our deceased loved ones who wait for us Otherside.  
  
"What have I done?" Sybok looked from Spock to Kirk to McCoy and back to the alien entity that wore his face. "This is my pride! My arrogance!" He held up his hand in salute to his brother and straightened his shoulders. Spock saluted his brother in return and touched his outstretched palm.  
  
"Sybok?"  
  
"Forgive me brother. Forgive me."  
  
"Sybok!"  
  
Kirk was wakened by a strange muffled sound. He peered around in the moonlit darkness of their camp at Yosemite. McCoy's sleeping bag was empty. Kirk could hear him relieving himself behind a tree. He next looked toward Spock's place. Kirk noticed the faint thrashings of a bad dream. He crawled out of his warm cocoon and over to his friend.  
  
"Spock? Spock, wake up. You're having a nightmare." The Vulcan flung himself back and found himself in Kirk's arms. He was disoriented for several seconds, then he lifted a hand to his face. It was wet.  
  
"Oh," he groaned. "Oh, no."  
  
"What is it, Spock?" Kirk said gently. "What's wrong?" Spock drew in a deep breath.  
  
"I was dreaming about Sybok." Kirk pulled Spock closer to himself as his own vision blurred. Kirk remembered similar nights after his own brother Sam was killed. He blinked several times.  
  
"You're still mourning the loss of your brother," he murmured. "It's only natural to dream about him."  
  
"You two want to be alone?" Kirk looked up as McCoy stood at the edge of the camp's firelight. He shook his head.  
  
"No, Bones. Come on over. Spock was just dreaming about Sybok." McCoy put a consoling hand on the Vulcan's quivering shoulders.  
  
"I am so sorry about your loss." Spock shook his head.  
  
"This is wrong!"  
  
"I don't think so, Spock," the doctor said gently. "Even Vulcans aren't spared grief." Spock pulled himself away from Kirk's embrace.  
  
"No!" he insisted, "this is wrong. I have already completed the grieving ritual. This," he said, indicating the tears he had wiped from his face, "this is wrong. It should not be happening." Spock turned towards McCoy. "Something's wrong with me. Examine me. Find out." Spock's breath began to come in fits and sobs as McCoy fumbled for his medikit and scanner. He passed it over Spock and peered at its findings in the light of the campfire.  
  
"This shows that you're fine, Spock. It was just a dream, probably just some unfinished business you..." Spock tossed his head from side to side.  
  
"No!" Kirk and McCoy exchanged worried looks. "No! Something's wrong. You should know. You should know!" Kirk tried to lay a calming hand on Spock's arm, but the Vulcan shrugged it off. "McCoy should know!"  
  
"But why? Why should Bones know what's wrong?" The Vulcan cast wild eyes about, not really seeing the worried looks on his friends' faces.  
  
"Because it once happened to him!" McCoy searched his memory to see what in blazes Spock was talking about. He took a sudden, sharp breath.  
  
"No, it couldn't be."  
  
"It couldn't be what, Bones?"  
  
"There wasn't enough time. Sybok only touched Spock for a moment."  
  
"Time for what?" Kirk bellowed. Spock drew his knees to his chest and curled up into a little ball. McCoy looked from the Vulcan back to Kirk.  
  
"I think Spock is carrying Sybok's katra." Spock launched himself to his feet and moved towards the river. He climbed the rocks near the base of the falls and sat himself in the middle of the river, high enough above the water, close enough to feel the spray. Kirk and McCoy picked their way more cautiously to the bank of the river.  
  
"Spock?" Kirk called. "How can we help you?" Spock lifted his head from his knees briefly.  
  
"Give me some time to think. I will meet you back at the campsite." Kirk nodded.  
  
"Okay. Be careful up there." Kirk watched his friend's profile a moment, then turned to McCoy. "Bones, will he be all right? Should we stay with him?" McCoy shrugged.  
  
"When it happened to me, I didn't know what was going on. I nearly went crazy. But I think it's different with him. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt." Kirk turned a worried gaze back to his friend on the rock.  
  
"'Nearly'? Bones, you were fruitier than a nutcake."  
  
Kirk had just finished dousing the campfire when he heard the soft sounds of footfalls behind him. Turning, he saw an exhausted and fretful Spock entering the campsite.  
  
"Would you like some breakfast?" Kirk asked, offering him some coffee. Spock threw back the welcomed warmth of the hot liquid and shook his head.  
  
"We have a problem." Kirk took the pot and refilled his cup.  
  
"'We'?"  
  
"We. Sybok and I. I can only be relieved of his katra on Vulcan, but, I cannot bring Sybok back to Vulcan. He was exiled."  
  
"So, what's going to happen?" Spock shook his head, miserable.  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
Spock sat at his desk, chin in hand. He was trying--again--to compose a message for his father, to compose himself. How could he speak of the unspeakable with his father? How could he tell him about the one whose name was not to be mentioned? The Enterprise was already en route to Vulcan. He could not very well show up on his father's doorstep with Sybok's katra. Resolutely, he turned off the padd and turned instead to his terminal, requesting a private subspace line.  
  
"This is Sarek." Spock opened his mouth to speak, but was suddenly at a loss. Sybok had overtaken him.  
  
"Father?" Sarek was puzzled.  
  
"Yes, my son. You called me. How can I be of service?" Sybok looked at Sarek through the eyes of Spock and was overcome. It had been years, decades, actually, since he had spoken to his father, ever since that awful day when he was driven from the planet and Sarek was unable to help him.  
  
Sarek grew concerned at Spock's gawking stare. It was indeed rare that his son should contact him in this manner, but at least when he did, he had something to say.  
  
"Spock? What is wrong?" Spock shook himself, wresting back control.  
  
"Sybok is dead," he blurted. Sarek nodded.  
  
"He has been dead to us for years. We are not permitted to speak of him."  
  
"No, Father. I have seen him. He gave his life to buy us time to escape." Sarek was quiet. He had heard something of a recent search for Sha Ka Ree.  
  
"So. You saw him," he said softly. Spock nodded. "And he is gone." Again a nod. "I shall mourn him, again. Is that your message?" Spock blinked several times. Sarek grew disquieted. His son seemed uncharacteristically agitated. "What is wrong, my son?" Spock gasped for air.  
  
"I bear Sybok's katra." Sarek slapped his hands down on the desktop.  
  
"_What have you done?_" Spock closed his eyes from the stern visage of his father. He shook his head, fighting for control, not only over Sybok, but over his own growing madness.  
  
"I didn't know," he said in a small voice. "I didn't know. It all happened so quickly. He touched my hand in salute before he went to battle the entity that held us captive. He only touched me for an instant, but it was enough time for him to prepare me to receive his spirit." Spock gulped for air. "I didn't realize until several days later that he was with me."  
  
"What is to be done? You can only be relieved of a katra on Mount Selaya, but you cannot bring the exiled one home. But if you are not relieved, you will go mad."  
  
"I know," Spock groaned. Sarek raised his hands to his face.  
  
"This is a fine mess." Spock stayed silent. What else was there to say? Sarek rubbed his aching head.  
  
"Where is your ship now?"  
  
"We are bound for Vulcan." Sarek nodded.  
  
"Good. Action must be taken quickly. I will not lose you again, my son. I will make arrangements, but be prepared. The masters may not allow his katra in the Hall of Ancient Thought. We may have to set Sybok loose upon the winds."  
  
"No!" Spock moaned. Sarek sat forward.  
  
"What he did was heinous." Spock matched his father's stance.  
  
"He was under the control of a alien entity," he argued. "Sybok knew that in the end. He was humbled. Without that evil influence, Sybok would not have done what he did."  
  
"I will tell them that, but they will have final say. Contact me when you arrive. Sarek out."  
  
With High Master T'Lar presiding, Sarek defended his son--his sons--before the assembly of elders and matriarchs, Kohlinar monks and Mount Selaya priests, members of his own clan as well as the clan of Sybok's victim.  
  
"I speak with the pain of a grieving father, for I am grieving anew the loss of my elder son, one who has been dead to me for years. And I speak with the fear of a father whose sole surviving son is in danger of losing his sanity if he is not relieved of this katra. You need no longer fear the exiled one. He was humbled before he died. He discovered the duplicity of the alien who had misguided him and his mother T'Mir. He knew that the place he was drawn to was not Sha Ka Ree. Give me back my first born son. Let him rest in the Hall of Ancient Thought. And free my other son from the horrors of madness."  
  
"And who will give us back our own dead?" spoke a voice in the crowd, a relative of the monk Sybok had slain. "He died, mind-violated, with no chance at the second life."  
  
"But does he not dance upon the winds with his ancestors?" Sarek replied. "My son will not have that. He died protecting the lives of others on a planet so far away."  
  
"You are not the first to lose someone off world. Who are you to have special privilege?" Sarek extended his hands, pleading.  
  
"If my son had not been influenced by an alien mind, he would not have done harm. If his mother had not been influenced, she would have raised him rightly."  
  
"So you are saying that it was not you son's fault that he was who he was?" Sarek dropped his arms. This was getting nowhere.  
  
"Forgive me. My logic is uncertain where my son is involved." T'Lar stirred. Sarek had said the same thing when Spock was in need of fal tor pann. "Then, at the very least, I am asking for someone to take my exiled son's katra from the mind of my surviving son before he is driven to madness." Sarek lowered his gaze and his voice. "We are prepared to set it loose on the wind." T'Lar stood. All eyes turned to her in anticipation.  
  
"We remember Sybok as a boy." Sarek could not repress a gasp as she spoke his name aloud, a name that had not been mentioned on Vulcan for nearly half a century. "He was a gifted child, with an unusual talent for healing. Had he not have been unduly influenced, he would have achieved much. On the other hand, our brother Suvik had given many years of service at Mount Selaya, guiding people to the vrekatras of their ancestors in the Hall of Ancient Thought. His mind was violated, his life extinguished in a moment of passion as a lonely, misguided youth sought the comfort of his mother's spirit. Before Sybok died, he knew of the deceit, of the folly. He revealed in his self-sacrifice the gifted boy we once knew.  
  
"It is not only in great accomplishments and heroic deeds that lessons are learned. Tragedy and error are formidable teachers as well. Sybok still has much to teach us. And we must consider the health of Spock, one for whom we fought so hard to wrest back from death not so long ago. T'Mir's vrekatra still stands empty in the deepest recesses of the Hall of Ancient Thought. If there are no further objections, we will relieve Spock of his brother's katra and place it there." T'Lar regally scanned the hushed assembly, giving ample time for contrary opinions. The relatives of Suvik stood.  
  
"Let it be so." Sarek's heart nearly burst with relief. The ancestors had been with him today, guiding his words. He saw the assembly of monks rise and chant as one, "Let it be so." He saw the priests of Mount Selaya rise and chant together, "Let it be so." He looked to T'Lar and one sob escaped from him as she said, "Let it be made so." Sarek fumbled so badly with his communicator that T'Lar had to take it carefully from his hands and call the Enterprise herself.  
  
"Send us Spock. It is time to lay Sybok to rest."  
  
Spock beamed down carrying a small chest. Kirk and McCoy flanked him, with Amanda close at hand. Of course she would have beamed up to sit with Spock, Sarek thought. It was only logical. Handing the chest to his mother, Spock turned to Sarek, his eyes large. Sarek knew that both his sons were gazing at him though Spock's eyes. Sarek opened his arms, and Spock rushed into them. Sarek closed his arms tightly around Spock, pinning his son's arms to his sides. Sarek addressed Sybok.  
  
"You will rest where your mother was, my son." After a time, Spock nodded.  
  
"Understood." Sarek crushed Spock to his chest.  
  
"You mustn't move. You must not fight the High Master." Spock started to gasp for air.  
  
"Understood," he whimpered. Sarek nodded to T'Lar. She pressed gentle, warm fingers to the side of Spock's face. He started to moan softly. "Sybok," he whispered. He struggled in his father's arms, but it was no use. Sarek had him in an iron grip. Someone brought out a dark and dusty vrekatra globe. Spock looked at it in wonder as it began to burn from inside with a warm glow. "Sybok!"  
  
T'Lar stepped back, trailing her fingers away from Spock's face. Sarek relaxed his vice-like grip, but did not release his surviving son. Spock raised his head to Sarek, trembling, and looked at him for a long moment. He tried to speak, but found he had no voice. Swallowing, he tried again.  
  
"I grieve with thee, Father." Sarek smoothed Spock's hair back into place.  
  
"And I with thee, my son." Both of them lost their footing as their knees buckled. They sat in the dust watching as a procession of monks and priests bore the vrekatra of Sybok to the Hall of Ancient Thought. Father and son rested on the ground, their arms still around each other as if they were in need of being held up. McCoy whipped out his ever-present scanner and declared them both fit, if not exhausted. Amanda gave each of her men a sip of cool water from the flask she carried, setting the chest on the ground between them.  
  
"What is this?" Sarek asked, finding his voice at last. Spock laid a hand on the little wooden box.  
  
"Before going down to the planet we thought to be Sha Ka Ree, Sybok asked me to trim his beard and hair. Instead of putting it into the cycler, for some reason I placed it in this chest." Sarek opened the chest and looked at the salt and pepper curls and locks of hair, pressing his lips into a thin line. "We do not have his body to lay to rest, but at least this much of him can join with the ancestors." Sarek concurred.  
  
"Very well."  
  
Kirk helped Spock to his feet, who in turned aided Sarek. They proceeded through a maze of carved walls and glowing pits until they arrived at the family shrine. Sarek held the chest as Spock raked the coals to life. Using the end of the rake, Sarek tucked Sybok's curls between the glowing embers until the hair began to burn. Kirk stood at attention in respect. McCoy willed his face to impassivity, even though he considered the stink of burning hair to be one of the galaxy's worst smells.  
  
Sarek and Spock each took a paddle-like object that seemed to be made of tightly stretched, tightly woven cloth. They beat the air rhythmically in circles round and round the pit. McCoy thought it looked like a cross between a march and a dance. Kirk realized that the two of them were trying to stir the smoke and ash into a column, to catch the wind currents, he supposed. They kept saying a short phrase that the universal translator could not translate, except the name Sybok, of course.  
  
Amanda felt her robes begin to stir. Kirk felt the delicious relief of a cool evening breeze tease the back of his neck. McCoy gazed in wonder as the ashes and embers began to swirl up, coaxed by the efforts of Sarek and Spock. They all looked up and watched the column rise and move out across the plain. Amanda joined her voice to the prayers of her family, in Federation Standard for the benefit of their human friends.  
  
"Dance, Sybok. Dance always upon the winds." 


End file.
